


Soulmate AU #1: Steve

by SkeletonWoman



Series: Soulmate AUs [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Soulmark AU, Soulmate AU, steve is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:02:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkeletonWoman/pseuds/SkeletonWoman
Summary: AU: Everyone gets a soul mark but its when you get it that’s the clincher. They can show up any time and you may not even notice until you next look at your palm. Some people have their soul marks from birth or very young and some don’t get them till their old, the latest recorded being seventy five in 2001. (And sometimes your soulmate is already dead.) The marks are like compass’s, always pointing in the direction of your destined partner (unless of course they are dead and then they don’t move.)(Also always shows up on your palm so like you’ll know when it appears and you won’t have to deal with having a compass on your ass cheek.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of lots of scene setting jibber jabber. Some nice Nick, nice Clint, nice Natasha but it's like on a scale of Maria Hill to Deadpool in terms of presence, he's about a Clint Barton (Winter Soldier movie)

You hadn’t minded that your palms were still blank. These things happened. Your parents, a soul mate pairing had been married before their marks had appeared, a matched set. And then it had only been an added blessing, something neither had really thought about since they’d met. For them, their soul mates had just been figments because how could anyone be better than the one they were with. And they were right, a pair of unknowing soulmates.

Clapping your hands together, you looked back up at Director Fury and winked.

“Don’t sass me.” He grumbled lowly and you laughed. Rising, you closed the distance between the two of you and leant into his side, despite his sigh of false suffering.

“Do you think my soul mate is going to be some boring book nerd or an even more boring SHIELD agent?” You asked softly and Nick sighed again, giving you a look. You shrugged in response, waltzing a few steps away. “See, the thing is, I’m not really a loving person. You know that.”

He nodded a small movement so you paraded a few steps to the left.

“And what if they are? What if he’s a biker?” You thought about it for a moment, a slow grin spreading over your face. “A biker wouldn’t be so bad. We could be the most powerful pairing in the motorcycle world. But what if he’s in a boy band?”

A booming laugh escaped the eye patched man and you scowled. Fury didn’t laugh often, but when he did it was always at your expense.

“That’s not fair! You can’t laugh!” You snarled and he sobered quickly, issuing you with a harsh look.

“And why not?” He boomed back and you smiled sweetly.

“Because I said so and I am your superior.” You joked and he rolled his eyes. Not even your jokes got him laughing. Just your disappointing life. Or future disappointing life.

 --- 

  
“Tony, this is Y/N.” Your eyes drifted over the billionaire and you bit your lip. His uninterested expression did an about face, suddenly becoming very interested. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, was it?” He asked smoothly, voice full of knowing and seduction. You heard the slight rustle of Fury about to step in but you shifted slightly to block him and he stopped.

“Obviously. And you’re Tony who? Sorry, Nick wasn’t very clear.” You smirk and he blinks, once then twice before scowling up at Fury.

“Who is this kid?” He gripes and you laugh softly.

“That’s above your pay grade, suffice to say she’ll be around.” He non-answered succinctly and you fought down a belly laugh at the pout Tony hid as he walked away in a huff.

“Hey, Y/N.” Clint greeted a little flirtatiously and you went to him willingly, leaving Nick to brood in the corner.

“Hello, Sweetrobin.” You giggled, linking arms with him and pulling him further into the crowd. His arm pulled free of yours, instead wrapping around your shoulders and holding you close. Your eyes met his for a moment before you let your gaze dart away and refocus on the crowd. “Where is Tashie tonight?”

“She’s around.” He answered, mostly a brush off but you didn’t care. If she was here, it meant she would arrive soon to tear the bird off of you and replace him with herself. Something the two often fought over- who got to be on your arm that night.

A waiter passed and you reached out to nab a drink from the plate but you fumbled, eyes catching on a dark shape on your palm, and knocked over the glasses. Quick as a flash, Clint had you turned to make it look like he had caused the accident before grinning winningly at the staring crowd.

“Sorry about that, I’m not so great on the ground as I am up above.” He laughed and the waiter grinned dazedly before waving you and the Hawk off.

“You didn’t tell me you’d gotten your soulmate mark!” He crows, snatching your hand and cupping it gently in both of his. “Oh! It’s pointing at me! Looks like we’re getting married!” He laughed loudly but you remained silent, staring at the star with a paintbrush with a blade handle inset. The brush turned as you moved yours and Clints hands and you smiled a small smile.

“An artist. Maybe he paints in blood.” You wondered softly and Clint cringed dubiously.

“I hope not. Could you imagine you and another slayer? That’s… That’s my nightmare.” He laughed, which was cut off by Natasha appearing and snatching your palm from him.

“Oh! It’s lovely!” She winked a little and you rolled your eyes, pulling her close with your free hand until her hip bumped yours. Black Widows to the left, Hawkeyes to the right, here you are. Stuck in the middle again.

“We’re going to be unstoppable and you know it, Barton. Don’t doubt me and my artist.” You promised a little possessively, ignoring the look that passed between the two spys. You gently traced the line of the blade brush, which now pointed north east. “You know most artists are mad, right? I wouldn’t mind some madness.”

“Y/N.” Fury boomed, striding through the crowd like Moses parting the sea and your eyes went wide.

“I love it when he does that. Like a leather shadow, coming to swallow the world.” You marveled before darting forward and shoving your hand in his face. “He’s an artist!”

Clint shared a snicker with Natasha at your attitude in the face of a quietly angry Director. For a moment, the large mans eyes softened and he inclined his head in recognition, face otherwise blank and you preened.

“Y/N. We’re leaving, now.” He bit out, ruining the moment with Maria finally appearing beside him.

“He’s right. We’ve just got a call that requires our presence and you need to be taken home.” Maria explains a little less abruptly and you pout, shooting Barton and Romanoff pleading looks, but they shrug lazily.

Obviously Dumb and Dumber won’t be a help.

“What if I went home later and you guys can go do… Whatever elsewhere?” You offered with a wiggle of your eyebrows that had Nicks brows sinking lower in disappointment. And if Marias deeply offended expression was anything to go by, you were going to be in her dog house.

“Sorry.” You mouthed at her as Fury turned and started striding away and she glared at you. You wouldn’t be on her good side for a while now, that’s for sure. Instead, you gave in and followed the pair meekly, letting them drop you at the house you shared with Nick and then make their own exit.

\--- 

  
You gazed at your mark, trying to draw it on a piece of paper fruitlessly. Your soul mate might be an artist, but you most certainly were not. Huffing angrily, you decided instead to simply take a picture. Photography was something you had a knack for, thankfully. Twisting carefully, you aligned your ridiculously expensive, and impressively sturdy camera with your palm, managing to capture it in the perfect way.

A few buttons later and you were able to set the image as your phone lock screen. With a small smile, you pulled on your gloves and shoved the device in your pocket.

Now that you actually had the mark, people would be able to use it against you, so you’d have to hide it. And getting used to wearing gloves is the first step. But setting it as your lock screen? That you could write off as your own whims, a dreamy mark you’d seen online until you finally had your own.

Glad to be done with that, you clambered to your feet and headed for Furys office, logging into his account and scrolling the files. People would probably be angry if they knew you had his verification and access to the secrets, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t upset them. And it’s not like he could keep you out anyway. Better you ease your boredom with secrets than assault.

You slowed, eyes pausing on the Avengers file. One of your favourites, a dream yet unrealised. Opening it, you parsed over the names like Thor Odinson and Tony Stark before pausing. Steve Rogers? A new name.

Excitement built in your breast and you stifled it, accrediting it to an update on something you hoped to be alive to see.

Steve Rogers AKA Captain America

Oh.

You’d heard of him. The daring war tales and his howling commandos.

You snickered a little at their name, perhaps military rationing had extended to underwear too. Scrolling some, you soon became engrossed in the mans history. It was impressive, so much so that the stalest way it could be written, the most unembellished, was still practically a fantasy. Sure, you lived in a similar fantasy but for his time?

Nice.

 ---

“Have you heard? The Fourth of July came early.” You whispered to Natasha who gave you a quizzical look. Right. The frozen body of the nineteen forties war hero called Captain America coming back to life would not be anywhere near her mind. “Captain America isn’t dead.”

Bluntness, the easiest way to avoid Natasha’s special interviews.

“What?”

“Am I supposed to repeat myself?” You sniped back, the knife you’d been making marks in the table with beginning on another line. 

“Are you listening, Agent?” Whoever was lecturing shot you a withering glare, which you shot right back.

“Am I supposed to? It’s not like I didn’t read your notes beforehand so this is old news.” You snarled, furious at being interrupted and that you’d been singled out. You watched as his eyes glowed with anger, the word insubordination practically steaming out his ears. You bowed your head, almost too late and gave him an embarrassed look through your lashes. He relaxed a little, eyes returning to their natural blankness, but not before you saw a flash of understanding shoot into his gaze.

Thank goodness for men and their instantaneous connection to menses every time a woman acts “the wrong way”.

“Not fair that you get away with that.” Natasha scolded you out of the corner of her mouth and you winked at her.

“Anyway, wanna sneak in and check out the body with me?” You challenged but she didn’t rise, her expression disinterested. You growl softly when she doesn’t even bother saying no, despite the fact that you knew she wouldn’t really be interested. “I’ll do it alone then.”

Probably a good thing- you aren’t in as precarious a position as her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, Steve. Welcome.

You tiptoed through the quiet hallways, winking at the cameras you came across. They were down. Sort of. 

You were invisible, lets suffice to say. You didn’t really want to get into the sordid details of how you’d managed to half create half find a device that removed your image from digital cameras but… It was pretty great a day.

A dark suited agent turned the corner and your eyes tunnelled, doing the classic schtick that if neither of you looks at the other, you seem more professional and worldly. In reality, it always came down to a reprieve from real work where you have to see everything. 

And honestly, who was going to question another person on this floor? If there were people here, they were meant to be here. 

Your watch blipped a small sound as you turned the corner and you slowed, professional as you could and without bothering to look, opened the door. 

 ---

Instantly, it felt tropical and you shuddered. Muggy weather, your constant enemy.

But then your eyes caught on the iced body and you wanted to laugh aloud. Slipping off your heels, you padded silently to the sleeping man, interrupted by small underfoot splashes and eyed his draped position. Obviously they’d roll him over soon, put him on his back. But from the rivulets of water running off the massive ice chunk, he wouldn’t be moving soon. Your fingers brushed over the ice that misted your view of his face and frustration filled you when it didn’t clear.

Shrugging off the feeling, tacking it to not getting your way, you waltzed your way around him. Circling him once then twice, you appraised the hero. 

Nice buns, shoulders that could fit a child across them and nice thighs. You stifled laughter at the suit and the embarrassing bald cap helmet, but you still couldn’t move past your building anger at not seeing his face. 

Sure, you could look at images of it. You’d saved one to your phone just yesterday on a whim, but it’s always different in real life. 

Crouching, water soaking into the knees of your stockings, feet already sopping, you glared at him. A soft crack filled the air but your glare didn’t waver. Without thought, your fingers reached up, rubbing hard at the ice between his face and the air, the air that should be the only thing between you two. For some reason. 

Your eyes caught sight of the mark on your palm, arrow pointed forward and you grimaced, shoving your hands into your silk gloves carelessly. Likely the water would ruin them, but you were too agitated right now. 

With a soft snick, the door opened, Fury coming through first, only to stop like a thunderstorm. 

“Y/N.” He rumbled and you rose to your full height gracefully. 

“Director.” You answered primly, Phil shooting you a friendly smile from behind the leather jacketed menace. You and Phil had always been on good terms. Even your natural antagonism had failed in the reality of his friendliness. Sure, he knew how to be a hard ass but he’d always been lovely to you.

“I see you’ve met Mr Fourth.” Nick grunted, Phil and the other men and women chuckling and you scowled. 

“I made that joke already. No one laughed.” You sniffed grumpily, fingers tracing the sharp edges of the ice block. 

“No one likes your jokes. So, how’d you get in here?” He cut through, voice commanding and your muscles tightened. 

“Firstly, nah, rude. Secondly, no, son.” You hissed grouchily and his lips pressed together to keep his words down. A gift, really. The ability to make him hold his tongue. “Whatever. Since when does Captain Bomb Pop live in a basement in the Congo? The Congo is humid, right? Yeah.”

“Since the carrier he was on suddenly popped out of the ice.”

“Why’re you defrosting him?” You asked, genuinely curious as you swirled the water in your fingers between your fingertips. Very cool looking, much ado about nothing.

“You think we should keep him iced?” Phil asked a little dejectedly and you grimaced. Sad puppy.

“Well, he’s going to hate it here.”

“You don’t know that.” Phil countered, expression a little hopeful as his hand fell into his pocket. No doubts what he had in there. Your eyes caught on the dark shape on the Ice Age star’s palm and your heart froze for a moment. 

“And he’s going to be all alone. That’s a soul mark.”

The gathered seemed to freeze for a moment, time completely stopping as your heart slowly caved for him. To be all alone, in a time you don’t know, and without the one person you were supposed to belong with, your other half. No one had an answer now, nor arguments against you. Hell, you wanted to suggest they just put him down, leave him asleep and end it before he knew what had become of him. But somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to, the tip of your tongue knotting and holding the words in. 

“I don’t care. Unfreeze him, frost him. As long as we can still see his face, I like his face.” You trailed, voice soft and mumbling by the end, talking to the unconscious and encased body. A giggle escaped you as you shook off the previous momentary melancholy. “And his ass.”

“Alright. Out.” Nick finally cut in and you relaxed. Took his time, jeez. Without a word you scurried from the room. You’d been half dying to get out but unable to leave without looking cowardly or like you shouldn’t have been there and half wishing you could sit and wait until he was finally dry and awake.  
You wouldn’t be seeing him again any time soon, anyhow, if that was the way he looked after being here just a week (you’d counted).

 ---

“You’re going away.” Nick announced over his raisin bran (raisins removed and replaced with dark chocolate chips- bitter, just like him.)

“Yay!” You cheered, delighted by a trip and not even needing to know the destination. For a moment, your mind went toward your soulmate, worried that the sudden base change might mess them up. But the things you’d learned, through life, your friends and school- soulmates had a way of finding you. So maybe the move would unite you and your artist.

Not that you felt like now was a really good time to be getting into a serious relationship. Young, a secret agent and hot blooded aren’t good prerequisites for marriage, the status most soulmates leapt into after meeting.

You unconsciously glanced at your glove covered palm, itching to reveal it and check that the compass still moved. But no. Such urges could lead to your downfall and if you didn’t fight them now, you might never. 

“Wakanda.” Fury said around a mouthful before you could ask and you grimaced at the image. He scowled right back. 

“Why!” You whined, suddenly catching on to what he had said. Wakanda? More like Anaconda because you don’t want none. (Unless they’ve got AC, hon.)

“You’re going to liaise with the royal family, SHIELD needs to start building ties with them sooner or later and everyone’s reluctant.” He sighed and you chewed your food slowly. 

“They’re sending me because I’ll do something naughty and they can then put off the whole… Thing.” You gathered and Fury looked at you funny. He didn’t need clarification, so why vocalise it. Internally, you cursed a little. You had learned to keep your thoughts private, but maybe the sudden delight and then sudden horror had tricked you up.

“I hate Wakanda, I hate SHIELD and if there isn’t hot cross buns on the jet, I’m going to crash it.” You snarled, shoving from your chair and storming to your room to pack. 

“You’re spoiled!” Fury shouted after you, muttering to his cereal.

\--- 

“He woke up.” Furys voice was strangely gentle over the phone and your brow furrowed. Sure, you had cared about the chunk of hunk but… You were busy now. 

“So? Look, Nicky, I’ve got an in with the son and I’m with him now. Can we discuss this later?” You sighed, peeking back through the window at the relaxed prince. He was impressive, to describe him in the most minute. 

“Y/N, I think you should hear this.” He said in a gruffer, grumpier voice and you smiled fondly, missing the old coot. 

“Yeah, I’m not going to. Miss you, old fart!” You yelped across the line before hanging up and silencing the device completely. 

“Now… How do you say it again?” You smirked some as you slipped into your chair once more and the prince grinned a little flirtatiously. 

“T’Challa.” He pronounced, voice smoky and you visibly shivered, winking at him and he laughed, grin deep.

“T’Challa.” You imitated perfectly and he laughed again, sipping his drink and appraising you. You could tell what he wanted to ask so you leant forward, letting the hair you’d grown out since arriving brush the table lightly.

“Yes, I’d be happy to fight you.” You tease before he can speak and he makes a few gruff sounds that you smother a snicker over. 

“I wasn’t- I was. I would very much like to take you on.” He gives and you clap happily, practically snarling as the waitress arrives, interrupting.

“Perfect.” T’Challa quickly pipes up, eyes on your expression as you school it. You were having a moment. He waited until the waitress had left before setting you laughing. “I think I’ve made a mistake challenging you.”

\--- 

“Y/N.” 

“Sorry! Busy again! SHIELD is going to wish they sent an actual diplomacy agent, I’m doing so well.” You cackle, closing the call without a single goodbye and instantly regretting it. What if you die? What if he dies?

“Y/N.” T’Challa calls and you rise unhappily from his bed, wandering out the door and into the living room where he stands, staring at his television. 

“Aliens in New York?” You scoff a little, regret flooding you further at the quick hang up. 

“They seem to have sorted it out.” T’Challa shrugs, already shuffling away, but you move closer. Kneeling before the TV, your eyes dart over the images in worry, seeing Natasha and Clint makes you wince. And then you catch on the blue suit and your heart stutters strangely, though you ignore it, giggling at the goofy helmet. 

“Captain.” You whisper to yourself with a small smile that grows when you see him punch an alien. Your grin falters as a woman comes on screen, praising him with heart eyes and a breathy voice. But she disappears as quickly as she came and its back to scenes of ruin and you unclench the fingers that had been squeezing the handle of your blade. 

“Director?” You greet softly, back on the phone and he sighs deeply, making you wince. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You didn’t know, nor care.” He growls and you grind your teeth.

“I do care! I just…” You trail off, unsure how to explain you’re selfish and sleeping with a prince and perhaps even falling for him. He hasn’t seen your mark, thus far, and you haven’t seen if he has one and though you haven’t checked, things feel right with T’Challa.

“I’m calling you home.” He finally inserts into the long silence and your breath catches, your gaze turning and zeroing on T’Challa. He raises his brows at the weird expression on your face and you make a confusing motion with your hand. 

“I’m not sure if I can.” You answer cryptically, trying not to tip off the prince but still remain here, in the forest home you’d come to sort of like. Though forests aren’t really your thing, too humid. Maybe you just liked the people? Or like… Two people? Perhaps this isn’t the right place to be, but you know T’Challa can’t leave so staying seems like a good idea right now. 

“Staying isn’t a good idea right now, you’re needed here and I’ve got a new project for you.” He answers just as cryptically and you scowl.

“Five years.” You bargain, diving into a future you hardly believe in.

“A month.” He counters bitterly and you leap to your feet, kicking at the air happily. He’s willing to haggle.

“Two years.” You grin and he sighs deeply. 

“Two months.”

“Six months.”

“Done.” He bites out and you can almost see his sharp expression. Six months is a long time. Six months can find you broken up and living in Uganda- which isn’t actually that far away.

You give T’Challa a weak smile and he wanders over a little timidly. He had never yet encountered you being sad, mostly just scary, happy and scary happy.

“I’ve got to go, Nick. See you in six months.” You sign off and close the call, looking up at the stricken royal. 

“Six months?” He asks incredulously and you shrug. Without another word, though a deeply sad expression, he takes your hand and drags you back toward the bedroom. Inside, he pulls you onto the bed and entangles your legs while he just stares at you. And you realise that this is supposed to be romantic. Loving. In reality, all you can think about is how Steve Rogers is doing and that you only have six months left in these climes. 

Frowning, you snatch up his hands and open them, which he allows freely and when they turn up blank, your stomach curdles. Of course.

“What is it?” He asks softly, eyeing your down expression with worry. Sighing, you reveal your own palm, having managed to keep it hidden for so long. 

“Oh.” He mumbles softly and you grimace up at him, before he’s pressing his lips to yours, as if it can brush away the sudden feeling of wrongness. But you let him, let him drown in these moments because six months isn’t soon enough now, you’re ready to go home tonight.


End file.
